A Friend in Deed
by dnachemlia
Summary: When a strange attack occurs aboard the Navy Yard, McGee calls an old friend for help. Starts mid-Season 7 for NCIS, mid-Season 5 for Supernatural, with flashbacks to pre-series/earlier seasons for both.  Not related to A Friend In Need .
1. Chapter 1

**A Friend in Deed**

Genre: Crossover - NCIS/Supernatural, Friendship

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Language, Character Death (canon)

Summary: When a strange attack occurs aboard the Navy Yard, McGee calls an old friend for help. Starts mid-Season 7 for NCIS, mid-Season 5 for Supernatural, with flashbacks to pre-series/earlier seasons for both (not related to _A Friend In Need_).

Standard Disclaimers apply. If I owned them SPN season 6 would have been way different.

This one is probably xenascully's fault ;)

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><p>XXX<p>

"Gear up," ordered Gibbs as he quickly marched to his desk to retrieve his identification and weapon. "We've got a body."

"Let me guess: a Petty Officer in Rock Creek Park," snarked Tony as he grabbed his own weapon from his desk drawer and swung his knapsack over his shoulder.

"No," snapped Gibbs. "Aboard the _Barry_."

McGee and Ziva glanced at each other in surprise. It wasn't often they could walk to a crime scene. They quickly grabbed their gear and followed the other two members of the team to the elevator.

"Is it an agent?" asked McGee once they were inside.

"Don't know. I was told they're not identifiable, at least not on sight."

"Great…"

After a quick stop at the garage to retrieve the scene kits, they made their way over to the river where the _USS Barry_ was docked. They arrived to find that security was already at the scene, keeping the curious onlookers at bay. When they reached the officer in charge, McGee noticed that he looked rather pale and slightly "green around the gills". The agent felt a slight twinge in his stomach. Just what they needed: another gruesome scene to start off the work week, with the promise of long hours and short tempers in the foreseeable future.

"Where?" asked Gibbs without preamble, and the officers pointed to the deck of the _Barry_. The team walked up the gangplank to the ship and stopped when they reached the top.

"Yikes," muttered Tony as they took in the tableau before them. They body, most definitely unidentifiable, looked as if it had had a run in with a threshing machine. It was still mostly intact, but the face, arms, hands and torso were essentially shredded.

"It looks like an animal attack," observed Ziva.

"Maybe we should check and see if the local zoos are missing any residents," Tony replied and soon winced as Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head.

They scanned the area, looking for obvious signs of a four-legged attacker, but other than the body and its associated effluvia there was no immediately discernable evidence that anyone or anything else had been there. They soon retreated to unpack their gear and put on protective clothing and by the time they had completed their task, Ducky and Palmer had arrived with a gurney. The M.E. halted the conversation he had been having with his assistant when he caught sight of the body.

"Good Lord..."

Palmer fell silent as he stared at the mess in shock. "You don't think…_a person_ did this, do you?" he finally managed to ask.

"Not unless it was Jack the Ripper's demented brother," said Tony with an evil grin. "Or maybe a werewolf…Thanks, Boss."

"Perhaps it was someone under the influence of drugs," commented Ziva. "I cannot picture a _sane_ person doing something like this."

None of the group had noticed the blood draining from McGee's face as he listened to their theories. He carefully studied the scene again, looking for something to shed light on what could have attacked the unfortunate victim.

"I just hope whoever it was, they aren't still hanging around," said Tony and McGee flinched. He really hoped so, too.

"Security cleared the place before we got here, DiNozzo."

"Right."

Ducky carefully made his way to the body, followed, reluctantly, by Palmer. He pointed to the victims arms, covered with several long, gaping cuts.

"Those are defensive wounds. He tried to fight off his attacker, even though it was for naught."

"Did anyone hear anything?" asked McGee, finally breaking his silence.

"Not that was reported," Gibbs replied. "When we get done here-"

"-check the security footage. Got it, Boss."

Each of them set about there tasks. McGee took photos while Ziva and Tony collected evidence and Gibbs interviewed the security men who had found the body. Ducky and Palmer readied the body for transport, and by the time they had finished and had it loaded into a body bag and onto the gurney, Gibbs had returned from his interviews. McGee noted that he was in a foul mood and kept his mouth shut, even though he had noticed something quite disturbing: there were no foot prints, human or otherwise, anywhere around the body.

XXX

Back at his desk, McGee carefully went over the security footage from the previous night. The victim's wallet had contained a driver's license for one Gary Hamilton, a retired Petty Officer, and using the picture from the license he had scanned the video for any sign of the man aboard the Yard. Abby was running DNA to confirm the man's identity, since both his face and his fingers had mutilated to the point where visual and scanner ID were impossible.

With a frustrated sigh, McGee loaded yet another DVD and started to search through it. Suddenly something caught his eye and he paused the video. A man who fit Hamilton's picture had entered the frame at a run and he had turned to look over his shoulder. McGee forwarded the video frame by frame until he had a clearer view of the face and then zoomed in, and the image that appeared caused the agent to gasp in surprise. The man was definitely Hamilton, and he was quite obviously terrified.

"Find anything?"

McGee looked up to find his boss looming over him.

"I found Hamilton. Looks like he was running from something."

Gibbs moved around to stand behind McGee as he continued to examine the footage. On the film, they saw Hamilton run towards the _Barry_, but just as he reached the center of the frame the image cut out.

"What the hell?" McGee reversed the footage and tried again, but the same result occurred. He tried fast-forwarding through and suddenly the image reappeared, but Hamilton was no longer visible. He went back through it, slowly, but he could not get an image of Hamilton or his probable pursuer.

"Damn it! How did that happen, McGee?"

"Some sort of electrical interference? I'm not sure..." They were interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs' phone.

"Yeah, Gibbs. On my way, Duck." He placed the phone back in its cradle. "Let's go. Ducky says he's figured out how our victim died."

McGee followed Gibbs to the elevator where they met Tony and Ziva.

"We interviewed all of the security staff, Boss. No one saw a thing," said Tony when Gibbs and McGee joined them. "Where are we going?"

"To see Ducky."

"Oh."

As soon as the group arrived at Autopsy they saw the body, now free of it's covering of blood and shredded clothing, laid out on one of the steel tables. The wounds were no less horrifying but now they could see the actual number of cuts that had been made. McGee shuddered inwardly. He could almost imagine what Hamilton's last few moments had been like, and wished he couldn't.

"What do ya got for me, Duck?" asked Gibbs in his normal abrupt manner.

"A puzzle, Jethro, one that may be a bit more challenging than we expected."

"I thought you said you knew how he died?"

"Well, yes, I have been able to determine the cause of death."

"Don't tell me it was blood loss."

The M.E. gave Gibbs a sardonic grin. "No doubt exsanguination contributed to his condition, but it does not appear to have been the final cause." He pointed to the gaping wound in the man's torso. "It appears that massive organ failure, of one in particular, is to blame."

"He died of a heart attack?"

"Well, no, not in the normal sense. The heart itself appears to have burst."

"How the hell did _that_ happen?" asked Tony, disgust apparent in his voice.

"Now that I do not know, but I have been able determine that it did indeed happen."

"What about the rest of the wounds?" asked Ziva. She had not managed to focus on the body for very long and was studying Ducky instead.

"Ah. It appears those were caused by an animal. The cuts themselves were made with a short, thick, pointed object, rather than a thing blade, and are quite jagged. For all appearances, they are consistent with mauling, say, by a large canid."

"A dog attack?"

"Yes, that is most likely, especially since there are no wolves in this area."

"What kind of dog?"

"I'm good, Jethro, but I'm not _that_ good. Something with enough jaw strength to exert approximately one thousand pounds per square inch or higher."

"Narrows it down a little."

"Indeed. There is, however, one very odd thing. I did not recover any hair, or find any evidence of saliva in the wounds."

"So…someone staged it to _look_ like a dog attack? How?"

"I'm afraid that is beyond my area of expertise. All I can tell you is that whatever was used, it was tooth-shaped, and wielded by someone who is extremely powerful or, more likely, had some sort of mechanical assistance."

"That's…"

"Hinky?" supplied Ziva. "Why would someone go to all of that trouble?"

"That's what you're going to find out. Tony, Ziva, start checking Hamilton's records, see if he had any enemies."

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Yes, Boss."

"McGee, get back to that footage. Let's hope at least _one_ of the cameras caught something."

"On it, Boss." The group turned to stare at McGee, shocked at his subdued tone.

"Is there a problem, McGee?"

"No, Boss. I…I better get started." He turned and hurried out of Autopsy as he tried to give the impression that he was concerned with getting back to work. He headed for the stairs and as soon as the door to the stairwell was shut, he stopped and leaned against it in an effort to calm his racing heart. He had developed an instinct of his own over the years, starting before he even began working at NCIS, and he knew that they were going to need some extra help with this case. He had hoped that he would never need that kind of help on the job, but it looked like his luck had run out.

He ascended one flight of stairs and paused to listen. No one was following him, and he prayed for just a few moments of privacy to make one phone call.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number that he had committed to memory many years ago. He had checked periodically to make sure it was still in service in case he ever needed to call. He just hoped this time someone would actually answer.

He took a deep breath and initiated the call. It rang several times, and he was prepared to leave a voice message when a rough, yet unfamiliar voice answered.

"_Yeah?"_

After a taking a brief moment to recover from the shock of hearing a live voice on the other end of the line, McGee spoke.

"My name is Tim. I need to speak to John Winchester."

TBC…

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><p>Thoughts? Comments?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**A Friend in Deed**

Chapter 2

McGee held his breath as he waited for a response. After a few moments, the person on the other end finally replied.

"_Sorry, John's not available right now. Why did you need to talk to him?"_

He exhaled with a huff. "I…need his help with something."

Another pause. _"What sort of help?"_

Suddenly he thought he heard the door to the stairwell creak and turned to look down the stairs, but no one had entered the stairwell. He lowered his voice. "I can't really talk about it here. Just let me speak to John. Please."

The man on the other end of the line sighed. _"Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you, buddy, but John passed away a few years ago. Sorry."_

McGee felt the strength in his legs give out and he slid down the wall until he was resting on the floor. "What happened?"

"_Long story. How did you know him?"_ McGee could hear suspicion in the man's voice.

"I…he was a friend. He helped me once, and…" He ran a hand over his face, willing himself not to give in to his grief. "I helped him when I could. I hadn't heard from him for a while, but…" He took a deep breath. "I called a couple of times. Left messages. He never called back. I just thought he was busy. Oh, God…"

"_Calm down, pal. Now, what sort of help do you need?"_

"I, uh…" Still reeling from what he'd been told, he wasn't sure how much he could tell this man. "Do you know about John's, uh, special line of work?"

"_Yeah. I do."_

McGee felt a surge of relief. "And can you help…like John could?"

A few moments of silence passed. _"Yeah, we can."_

"Ok. Ok, good."

"_First things first: where are you and what's going on?"_

"I'm in D.C., and…" He heard the door creak again and decided he'd delayed long enough. "Look, can we meet somewhere and talk? I really need to get back to work, and—"

"_Got it. There's a diner on Columbia Pike in Arlington. You know it?"_

"I can find it."

"_Good. Be there by 10 PM. We'll talk then."_

"Thank you."

"_No problem_." There was a click and Tim realized the man had hung up. He pushed himself up along the wall until he was standing again, took a moment to collect himself and headed for the door. He didn't notice the door on the lower level move inward slightly before it fell shut.

XXX

McGee made it back to his desk and immediately began working on the video again, knowing that he probably wouldn't find anything, well, _natural_ at least. He scanned through every second of the recording before and after the static section, slowing it to examine every frame, but no sign of the pursuer was present…at least that the camera could capture. Finally, he had to admit repeat and looked towards Gibbs' desk to report his findings, only to find that the lead agent was watching him. Gibbs raised an eyebrow expectantly and McGee felt the heat rise in his cheeks at his boss's scrutiny.

"I checked the entire video, Boss. Nothing." Gibbs continued to stare and McGee averted his own gaze. "Background, cell records and finances. On it." He glanced over at Tony's desk, surprised to find the senior agent absent. "Where-?"

"Tony and Ziva went to interview the victim's wife." McGee felt a surge of anxiety, which he must not have hidden very well because Gibbs rose from his desk and walked over to loom into McGee's personal space. "What?"

"Nothing, Boss. I just…I guess I didn't realize how much time had passed. I'll get back to work."

"Something you want to tell me, McGee?"

"Boss, I already—"

"Who did you call? Earlier, in the stairwell."

McGee paled as he realized who his suspected observer had been. "No one, Boss. No one important. At least, not to the case."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly as he stared at his agent and McGee let his own gaze fall. "I'll get back to work." He started the protocols for the basic searches as Gibbs continued to stare at him in silence. Finally the older man returned to his desk, but McGee knew he had only barely dodged a bullet where Gibbs was concerned. He'd have to be much more careful in the immediate future, at least until he could learn more about the silent, invisible attacker.

Two hours later Tony and Ziva returned (much to McGee's relief) and he had completed the first of the basic searches into the petty officer's background.

"Hamilton never made it home last night, Boss," Tony declared as he walked to his desk. "Mrs. Hamilton hasn't heard from him since last night."

"What else?"

"If he was still in the Navy, I'd say he was living way beyond his means, especially since the wife doesn't work. The house was practically a mansion in an exclusive neighborhood. Looks like new money, though."

"That would make sense," McGee added before giving his own report. "Ten years ago Hamilton hit the PowerBall jackpot. He was the sole winner of $200 million. It also looks like he made some very good investments with the money he won, and has been living off the returns for the last five years." McGee paused as something pinged a memory. The time frame seemed like it should be significant, but he couldn't remember why.

"And?"

McGee collected himself and continued. "All investments seem to be legit, but this guy was either extremely lucky or he had some sort of inside information." He put some of the documents he had found up on the plasma. "For almost every investment that I've found so far, immediately after he bought the stock the shares soared. I can't find any rhyme or reason to the planning of the investments themselves. Either he was psychic…" McGee gave Gibbs a weak grin, which faded when he caught the lead agent's expression. "…or he was working with someone 'in the know'."

"Find out who that 'someone' was. Anything else on the wife?" Gibbs asked, turning to Ziva. She shot Tony a dirty look before he could say anything.

"From what I observed, Mrs. Hamilton was very worried about her husband and had no idea of his whereabouts. She does not seem the type to be…dishonest."

"Is that your woman's intuition speaking there, Agent David?" Tony snarked and then winced as she elbowed him in the gut.

"No, experience. I have seen enough liars-" She glanced significantly at Tony, who grumbled something under his breath. "- to know when someone is not one of them. She was genuinely concerned that her husband is missing. I also do not think that she has the temperament to plan a hit on her husband, nor the physical prowess to do what was done to him."

"All that money…maybe he has something on the side. If the wife is as innocent as you say, she wouldn't know…unless, of course, she did find out, and—"

"Doesn't explain what we've seen on the video," McGee interjected. "Something…er, some_one_ was chasing him, and someone interfered with the feed. It'd take some serious tech know-how, and access to our servers. I found no evidence of any kind of tech background for Mrs. Hamilton…or her husband."

"She still could have hired someone, or several someones with the dough she's going to inherit - providing we ID the victim as Hamilton – the do have the know-how."

Before he could respond, Gibbs' phone rang and he picked up the receiver. "Yeah, Gibbs. OK. Thanks, Duck." He hung up the phone and turned to his team. "Ducky has a preliminary dental ID, X-rays match Hamilton."

"Well at least we've answered one question…thanks, Boss."

"McGee, dig deeper. Find Hamilton's investment connection. Tony, Ziva, look into his personal connections. Someone had a reason to want this guy—"

"—_very_ dead," Tony quipped, receiving a glare from Gibbs. "On it, Boss."

Tony and Ziva returned to their desks while Gibbs headed for the elevator. The team worked in relative silence, but McGee's puzzlement grew as he worked his way through Hamilton's financial records. He had to wonder at the man's luck: before his windfall, Hamilton was barely getting by on his salary from the Navy. The man had accumulated thousands in credit card debt, mainly due to tuition for his son's education at a state school, and for medical bills resulting from his daughter's injuries in a car accident. The daughter had been well recovered before Hamilton collected his lottery winnings, but the bills had almost bankrupted the man. Now he was free and clear of all debt, and his children would be well provided for in the future, based on Hamilton's current net worth. McGee made a note to check probate for the man's most recent will and glanced at his watch. His eyebrows rose in alarm when he saw it was almost time to meet John's associates.

"Hot date tonight, McGee? That you'll obviously have to cancel," Tony commented with barely disguised glee, and Tim gave him a withering look.

"No, I…just realizing how late it is."

"Are you done with the searches, McGee?"

"Uh, almost, Boss. At least what I can get done tonight, some will have to run overnight and—"

"Then make sure you get to that point."

"Yes, Boss. I, uh…excuse me for a moment." He headed for the men's room and, after checking to make sure it was empty, pulled out his cell phone. Still worried about being overheard, he sent a quick text to John's number and hoped his associates were tech-savvy enough to receive it.

_STILL WRK. BE THERE ASAP. _

He waited and soon received a reply.

_UPDATE WHEN UR ON THE ROAD._

_GOT IT, _he typed quickly in reply before he slipped the phone back in his pocket, flushed the toilet to disguise his mission, and opened the stall door. He was surprised to find that he was actually still alone. He washed his hands, grabbed a paper towel to dry them, and headed back to his desk.

When he returned Tony gave him and amused look. McGee ignored him and started to set up the next string of searches that could run overnight, before he reviewed the results of the latest search. As he read through the information he frowned. None of Hamilton's stock purchases had been made through the same broker more than once. He seemed to have just picked random names from those listed in the phone book and had gone through all of the proper channels. None of his known associates had any connection to the companies for which he had purchased stocks. None of the brokers had any active investigations open concerning them, and the few past investigations had not resulted in any sanctions.

McGee sighed and altered the parameters so he could check further back in Hamilton's timeline for relevant connections. By the time he had everything done, it was close to 11 PM and he worried that the men he was meeting wouldn't wait, so he carefully checked to make sure Tony wasn't watching and he sent another quick text.

_ALMOST DONE. HEADING OUT IN 5._

He checked again on Tony again after he had sent it but the senior agent still seemed to be focused on his own work. A few moments later the phone vibrated, signaling a new text. McGee surreptitiously checked the method and breathed a soft sigh of relief.

_AT THE DINER. C U SOON._

He quickly put his phone away, made one last check of the system and grabbed his knapsack from its spot beside his desk.

"Enjoy your date, McRomeo," Tony grinned as McGee rose from his chair, "but not too much. It's a school night."

McGee rolled his eyes in response although his heart was beating heavily in his chest. "Good night, Tony. See you tomorrow." Tony just waved and McGee headed for the elevator. Once inside, he pulled out his phone and searched for the location of the diner. He pulled up address and set his GPS app to find it as he exited the elevator and walked towards the parking lot. Once he got to his car he checked the area to make sure he hadn't been followed, then climbed in, started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at the address he had found. The diner was a bit run down, with cheerful, albeit slightly faded signs that declared _Save room for our famous homemade pie!_ There were only two other cars in the parking lot, including a large older model that caused the gas-price-conscious part of McGee's mind to wince. He parked next to the black behemoth and headed to the diner. He opened the door of the building and stepped inside, scanning the room as he did so. The only other visible patrons were an elderly African American man who gave McGee a suspicious glance, and another man, Caucasian and much younger, with spiky brown hair, who was sitting with his back to McGee.

McGee remembered that the voice on the other end of the line had said 'we' could help and looked around for another patron but the second man seemed to be alone. With a shrug, McGee started to make his way to the far corner of the diner where then man was sitting. As he approached, Tim could see that the man was wearing a well-worn leather jacket, similar to the one John had been wearing when he and Tim first met. He filed that away for later and when he was only a few feet away, he cleared his throat to get the man's attention. Slowly, he turned to face Tim, who gasped in shock as he came face to face with a dead man.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Tim?" the dead man asked, and he managed a nod. "I'm Dean—"

"—Winchester," Tim finished and Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "But you…you're supposed to be…"

"Dead?" A voice behind Tim responded and he turned…and looked up at the smiling face of Sam Winchester. "Afraid that rumor's been greatly exaggerated."

Tim stared at Sam before glancing back at Dean. "How…?"

"Long story," Dean replied. "But I suspect you have one of those yourself. Have a seat," he indicated to the bench across from him and Tim slowly moved to slide into the booth. Sam joined his brother and they both looked at Tim expectantly as he struggled to regain his mental footing. Dean slid a glass of water closer to Tim which he picked up and took a drink from it with a nod of thanks. Both men visibly relaxed when he set the glass back on the table.

"You said you needed John's help," Sam began, pulling Tim from his daze.

"Yeah. I, uh, that is…our case. It's—"

"Case? You're cop?" Dean's incredulous expression caused Tim to bristle.

"Federal agent. NCIS. That's—"

"Navy Criminal Investigative Service," Sam finished and Tim nodded.

"I'm part of the Major Case Response Team, and I, well…"

"How did you know John?" Dean demanded, earning an annoyed look from his brother. "You obviously know what he did, so…"

"Long story," Tim replied, wanting to give the man a taste of his own medicine.

Dean grinned, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Aren't they all?" He turned and signaled the waitress, who brought a cup of coffee for Tim.

"Anything else?"

"Pecan pie, all around. Thanks, sweetheart." He gave her a dazzling smile and she blushed before hurrying off to get their order. Sam gave him another dirty look and he shrugged. "Story time's always better with pie."

Tim bit back a nervous snort of laughter and Dean turned his attention to the agent.

"What?"

"Nothing, sorry." The waitress returned with their orders and Dean enthusiastically dug in to his piece of pie while Tim and Sam left theirs untouched.

"So," Sam began, "Dean asked a good question. How did you meet our father?"

Tim sighed as he pulled up the memories of their first meeting. "I was in college at the time…"

_April 27, 1997; Cambridge, Massachusetts_

_Tim checked his watch and groaned. It was almost midnight and even though he had been studying for his exam for nearly four hours he still felt like he wasn't anywhere near prepared enough. Unfortunately he couldn't stay at the library much longer, especially since the college had instituted a curfew and he barely had enough time to get back to his dorm before it went into effect. Of course, he could spend the night in the library, but he knew he needed better sleep than he would get curled up in one of the carrels, and there was always the chance he'd oversleep and miss his exam._

_After checking to make sure he had all of his notes, Tim swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the exit. There was only one other student still studying in the area, a rather strange young man Tim recognized as a fellow computer science major from his dorm. The student glanced up as Tim approached and checked his own watch._

"_Are you ready to leave?" Tim asked. The campus security had sent out a notice, recommending that students not travel alone at night, and while Tim had heard rumors of why that notice had been issued, he was fine with walking back to the dorm by himself. He was only asking to be polite._

"_Not going out there this time of night, man. Haven't you heard about the murders?"_

"_What murders?" Tim asked as he felt a chill down his spine._

"_They've been keeping everything hush-hush, but I've got my own network in place. They're bad, man. People getting ripped to shreds on the nights of the full moon."_

_Tim almost laughed. "Full moon? Right. Next thing you'll tell me is that it's a werewolf."_

"_What makes you think it's not? Evidence, man. It's there, but the cops don't want to believe it."_

"_Because there's no such thing as werewolves. I think you've seen too many movies."_

_The other student just shook his head. "I'm telling you, it's not safe. Better off staying here."_

"_Sorry, but I'm more afraid of failing my test due to lack of sleep…or of what our RA will do if we don't get back to the dorm before midnight."_

_The young man gave Tim a pitying look. "Your funeral, man."_

_Tim just shook his head and turned to leave. By the time he reached the elevator the other student had joined him._

"_Change your mind?"_

"_Safety in numbers. Figure when it grabs your dumb ass I can make my escape."_

"_Thanks a lot."_

_They rode down to the ground floor in silence and walked towards the main doors. The librarian gave them a worried look and warned them to get back to their dorms as quickly as possible. Tim thanked her and followed the other student as he headed for their dorm._

_The night was fairly quiet, and the city sounds around them seemed muted as the two boys made their way across campus. The full moon was high over head, bathing the area in an eerie silver light, and Tim couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive. It was certainly spooky, but soon his scientific mind scoffed at the notion. He had let the other young man get to him. He should know better to listen to someone who was rumored to have an unhealthy interest in all things occult._

_They were only a few hundred yards from their dorm when Tim got the uneasy sensation of being followed. He quickened his pace but the feeling didn't dissipate, and suddenly his companion grabbed his arm._

"_Do you hear that?"_

"_Hear what?" Both boys held their breath for a few heartbeats before Tim heard what had startled the other boy: stealthy footsteps, coming from the darkened alley they had just passed. A deep growl reached his ears and every hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He tried to call out, to ask who was there, but the words froze in his throat as a figure stepped into view._

"_Holy…"_

_The figure looked mostly human, but the luminous, wolf-like eyes, large teeth and clawed fingers were straight out of a nightmare. Tim and the other boy started to back away as the creature approached, and Tim had one very clear thought as he gazed into those hungry eyes: he really should have stayed in the library…_

"_Hey!"_

_The creature turned as a large man stepped from the shadows and aimed a gun at its chest. In a flash it lunged at the man, just as he pulled the trigger and the sound of the gunshot shattered the night. The creature collapsed in mid-spring and as Tim watched in horror, it slowly transformed back into a person. It gazed up in horror as the man approached, gasping out its last breath as the man looked on, a frighteningly blank expression on his face._

_When the creature—now completely human in appearance—finally stilled, the man turned his attention to the two witnesses._

"_You alright?" he asked in a gruff voice._

"_What…what was that?"_

"_I knew it!" the other boy exclaimed as he turned to Tim. "Didn't I tell you?" Tim just stared at the body and the other boy turned to the man who had saved him. "That was a werewolf, wasn't it?"_

"_Yeah, it was."_

"_But…" Tim still couldn't wrap his mind around what he was seeing. "It…it looked like a person…not a wolf, a person…with fangs."_

_The man chuckled. "Hollywood got it wrong. Sorry, kid." His expression darkened. "What the hell are you two doing out this time of night? There's a curfew, right?"_

"_We were heading back to our dorm," the other boy replied and pointed at Tim. "He didn't think we had to anything to worry about."_

"_Guess you learned differently." He paused to study Tim. "You OK, son?"_

"_No." He looked up at the man. "Are there any more of…those out here?"_

"_Here, no. There are others out there, though. There's always something out there."_

"_Like what?" the other boy asked, and the man gave him a sad smile. _

"_You probably don't want to know." The sound of sirens reached their ears. "Best continue this conversation somewhere else. Come on."_

_Tim took one last look at the body before following the other two to the man's truck parked a few blocks away. After they had climbed into the cab, the other boy turned to the man. _

"_You're a hunter, aren't you? I've heard stories about people like you. Man…"_

"_Hunter?" Tim asked. "You hunt…things like what we saw?"_

"_Yeah." He turned the key and the powerful engine rumbled to life. "There are things out there most people don't know about. I had my eyes opened and I've been taking them down ever since."_

"_I want to help," the other boy declared and much to his own consternation Tim nodded in agreement. The man turned to them with a sigh. _

"_What's your name, kid?"_

"_Ash. He's Tim." Tim's eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn't think the other boy even knew his name. _

"_John." He studied them for a moment and sighed. "Ash, Tim, this isn't a job for civilians." A pained look crossed his face. "You're better off staying out of the hunt."_

"_I don't think I can."_

_John snorted. "Got any weapons training? Tracking skills? Hell, first aid certification?"_

"_I have that," Tim declared._

"_Probably not for the type of injuries a hunter gets." John's tone sent a shiver down Tim's spine. _

"_There must be something we can do…"_

"_Stay safe. Stay aware, and don't put yourselves in danger like that again." They nodded and John guided the truck away from the curb. "Where to?" Tim quickly gave him directions to the dorm and John made the drive in silence. When they reached the building, John pulled a couple of pieces of paper from his pocket and scribbled something on each before handing them to the boys. "If you ever notice anything strange going on, something that doesn't seem right, give me a call and I'll take care of it. Don't try to do anything on your own. Clear?"_

_Ash looked like he was going to argue but finally nodded in agreement. "Thanks for saving our asses, man."_

"_Don't make me have to save them again."_

"_Got it." Ash headed for the door of their dorm but Tim lingered, unable to let go of what he had witnessed._

"_Tim? You OK?"_

_Tim shook his head. "No. How…how do you deal with it? Knowing what's out there?"_

"_I focus on taking the bastards down, one monster at a time."_

"_How do you find them?"_

"_I have my sources. Why?"_

"_I, uh…I'm pretty good with computers, tracking information, and…maybe that's how I could help."_

_John studied him thoughtfully. "Been doing it the old-fashioned way for years. It's worked so far."_

"_But it's something I could do. I…I really can't step aside, now that I know…I mean, I've been thinking about law enforcement—computer forensics, actually-because I want to help people, and this would be a way to help people, and…"_

"_I'd stick with your original plan, Tim." He took in Tim's expression and sighed. "But I can't say a little extra help with research would hurt. Just don't try to go after anything on your own, OK?"_

_Tim managed a smile. "I can do that."_

_xxx_

Tim looked up at the two men seat across from them and felt a twinge of apprehension when he saw their expressions. Dean seemed to be fighting back anger, while Sam was watching his brother with worry. Tim realized there was much more to the family history than he had been able to glean from his encounters with John.

"What happened to John?" Tim finally asked after the two brothers remained silent.

"Demon," Dean growled and Tim felt his heart sink.

"The yellow-eyed demon? Azazel?"

"What do you know about that?" Dean asked sharply and Sam put a hand on his arm, which Dean quickly shook off.

"I, uh…I was helping him track it. He never told me why he was interested, but I got the impression it was…personal."

"It was," Sam replied with a quick glance at his brother. "It killed our mother."

"I'm so sorry…John never told me."

"Did he tell you about us?" Dean snapped.

"Yeah, he did. I…When I heard that you had been killed, in St. Louis, I called him. I figured he would be upset." Tim shook his head. "He told me about shapeshifters. When I heard that, well, both of you had been killed in an explosion in Colorado, I tried to call again…but I didn't get an answer. Shapeshifters again?"

"Demons. And an FBI agent who learned the truth and was willing to give us a second chance." Sam grimaced. "He didn't make it."

"Henricksen? I saw his reports on the two of you, and…I figured you were doing the same job John had done. He told me he had to walk on the wrong side of the law from time to time, so…"

"You knew we weren't the bad guys," Dean finished. "Would have been nice to know we had a fed on our side back then."

"Sorry. No one would have believed me, and I was just a junior agent at the time."

"Which I guess brings us back to your current problem. What happened to make you think it was our kind of thing?"

"We found a body on the _Barry_…a ship used as a museum at the Navy Yard. It looked like an animal attack, but…there was no evidence of any animal. At first I thought it was a werewolf, but—"

"Moon wasn't full."

"No. And when I found the security video of the victim he was being chased by something, but the video cut out when whatever it was crossed the view of the camera."

"Tell us about the victim."

"Gary Hamilton, retired from the Navy. Uh, no criminal record, but had a lot of money, some of which he won in a lottery and the rest from investments of his winnings." Tim noticed their expressions. "What?"

"Let me guess: guy hit the jackpot exactly ten years ago."

"Yeah. How did you know?" He watched the silent communication between the brothers for a few moments. "What?"

"Well, the good news is, you won't have to worry about any more random attacks."

"Random?"

"The bad news is sometimes these things come in groups. Have any other attacks been reported?" Sam asked.

"No, not that I could find… So what was it?"

Dean sighed. "Hellhound."

"A Hellhound? What would…oh." Tim felt like head-slapping himself. "Crap. He made a crossroads deal?"

"Yeah, and sometimes when these things are called up, they stick around, making more deals."

"So how do we stop it?"

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. "Probably can't."

"Why not?"

"Because only demon that made the deal can break it, and only if their boss allows. Trust me, he's not likely to step in."

"You…you know the head crossroads demon?"

"Unfortunately. As I said, he not gonna break a deal."

"But if more people are going to wind up like that, we need to do _something_."

"You've have to find out who they are first, and to do that you'd have to find out where Hamilton made his deal."

"I can do that. Then what? Warn them so they can go somewhere safe?"

"Trust me, there is nowhere for them to hide from this. They can either be protected, which is generally temporary, or you can get the demon to let them out of their contract, which is highly unlikely." Dean shook his head. "As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes they get what's coming to them. This Hamilton guy sold his soul for money, after all."

"To pay his daughter's medical bills and to provide for his family."

Dean sighed. "Fine. But you don't know what the rest did. You probably won't have time to get to them anyway."

"So what do I do? I can't exactly tell my boss what happened."

"Definitely not." Dean nudged his brother, who slid out of the booth to let Dean out as well. Dean tossed a few bills on the table. "Sorry we couldn't help you, Tim." Dean turned to leave as Sam gave him an apologetic look and followed.

"John wouldn't have given up," Tim called out before he could stop himself.

Dean froze for a few seconds before slowing turning to face Tim, his expression cold.

"You don't know anything about John," Dean growled. "Now go back to your job, and figure out something to tell your boss that won't get you tossed in the nut house." He spun on one heel and stormed out. Sam glanced at Tim before following his brother, and Tim collapsed back against his seat.

_That didn't go like I planned…_

He then leaned forward and let his face rest in his hands, wondering just how he was going to deal with what he had learned. After a few minutes, he heard someone approach and looked up, expecting Sam at least to have returned to offer an explanation. Instead he looked up at the last person on Earth he expected, or _wanted_, to see staring down at him.

"Something you want to tell me, McGee?"

TBC…


End file.
